Women of the War
by Hearts A Mess
Summary: These are the thoughts and views of the women directly involved in the war against Voldemort and his followers. They will each find who is ready, who will run, and who will fight with a heavy heart.
1. Hermione Handcrafted

**AN: The Wizard of Oz, is not of my creation. Nor any of the following characters in the HP verse.**

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"Curses! _Currsess!"_

Hermione watched with amusement at the witch in the film. The Wizard of Oz certainly was a spectacle after being in the actual wizarding world, and as she stared at the green makeup of the actress, she couldn't help but feel exasperated at the same time. Hooked nose, warts, green skin, and a pointed hat that was hardly seen even in Knockturn Alley, unfashionable dress robes… She knew this was as stereotype that had grown through the years of entertainment as well as religions that had deemed paganism as a sort of evil practice.

The woman as an ugly, evil, and jealous sorceress, hell bent on deterring the homespun country girl into giving up her shoes of power.

_Hm, shoes_…she thought idly.

Hermione was sitting in the den of her parent's home, awaiting news from Harry for when she and Ron would partake on their first journey, assignment, task, mission...whatever it would be. She was restless, and the pages of her books on loan from Professor -or Headmistress- McGonagall were wearing thin.

Things weren't all dark though, she thought as she watched Glenda the 'good witch' float down in her bubble and appear in her glittering Cinderella-like dress. Her crown seemed to be made of spun sugar and her wand was so ornate that Hermione barked out a laugh.

"Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?" Glenda inquired, and Dorothy had the same look upon her face as when Hermione had first received her Hogwarts letters.

She turned to look out the window again, her memories rewound until she stopped on the platform of nine and three-quarters and was looking back at her slightly worried parents.

"Send letters, we want to hear all about your new school!" chimed her mother, while her father waved. Hermione smiled and waved back, yelling "Every week!" And like clockwork, she wrote. Her first letter noted meeting Harry and Ron, along with a few other choice girls in Gryffindor. But the statement was short, as she realized they were only acquaintances and that she had reverted back to her normal cover for nervousness; being a scientific reference book.

But then her letters grew as her friendships grew, and soon there wasn't much more to write. She knew her friends so well and could not bring to tell her parents of the dark cloud that was hanging over them as well as herself, since she had decided to bear the burden of the rain with them.

She thought about Harry and Ron. As an only child, she noticed that she was a lacking in friendliness towards others, and wasn't so aware of her swottiness until her third year at Hogwarts. She thanked Harry and Ron for their tactlessness, as it let her be aware of her own faults. Harry built her courage and Ron built her patience. Ron increased her practicality while Harry increased her instinct. She had no idea how she had helped them, (well, she had some idea) but the impatience of wanting to use her abilities that her friends gave her was coming to a breaking point.

_A not so bad witch, I suppose,_ she thought to herself.

She looked back to after the funeral of Dumbledore and remembered her conversation with Ron.

"You know, you're welcome to come stay at the Burrow."

"Thanks, but I want to spend some time with my family. Maybe have them arranged with the Order protection."

His eyes wandered absently, looking a little unsettled. "Well, I dunno how long it'll be until we see each other so…I'll write to you," he finished quietly.

Hermione looked at him with an eyebrow raised, an amused smile coming over her features. She thought it was something, since he had hardly made the effort all of the years before. She composed herself and nodded and graciously said with great difficulty, "That would be great, Ron."

He blew out a breath that he was holding, and was about to say something when a dark look crossed over his face.

"Tell mother I said hello," said Percy as he walked by quickly, avoiding his brothers eyes.

_"You can tell her after you get over yourself!"_ he yelled back, obviously releasing some pent up tension. Hermione found herself amused again yet rolling her eyes and dragging him off to Harry.

It was then that she noticed a new feature on Harry's face that day next to the Black Lake. One she had only seen fleetingly while in the DA. One that she and Ron knew the meaning of right away.

A singsong voice called from the film and the quartet was skipping down that road again:

"_You're out of the woods_

_you're out of the dark_

_you're out of the night._

_Step into the sun,_

_step into the light."_

Not quite, Hermione thought dully while thinking of the piercing look on Harry's face. She had learned later that he had just severed his ties with Ginny and up until that moment, had considered the same thing between him and Ron and herself. The expression he wore told her everything: that he would once again be alone with his enemy.

But it was Ron who blatantly said, "We'll be there mate, every step of the way."

She expressed the same tenacity, and willed him to wipe that damn look off his face. He did, eventually. But it was constant reminder of what was always on his mind, and never gave away.

She never really called it pity; what she felt for Harry and his responsibilities. But she knew that there was only so much a person could handle- should handle. The decision couldn't just be left up to him...because in the end, Hermione knew it would break him. That was why she needed to be there. She wouldn't have it any other way.

This decision had come to her years ago, and it was almost absolute, torturing pressure to think that Harry would abandon their oath for help. When was he going to write?

Hermione's eyes and thoughts lit up as she saw Hedwig swoop through the open den window and perch on the back of her father's wooden chair. She saw Harry's scrawl even from across the room.

_Brilliant,_ she thought without a trace of fear and a little excitement as she tore open the seal.

_Lets get started._


	2. Luna is Loved

Owl droppings made her nauseous for as long as she could remember, but it was a small price to pay to let her father know that she would be arriving home early from Hogwarts that year. Luna forced her face into an enormous smile (something that muggle healers told her would fight off any form of oncoming nausea) and inspected the hairy pellets that littered the floor of the owlery. According to a friend of her father, Boris Vandee, they held impressive medical properties that St. Mungos and other institutes had yet to give the time of day.

Why was it so unbelievable? She shook her head at how her friends would have reacted. Hermione would have strangled out a sentence fragment and then stare intently at the sky (she reminded herself to pass along the antidote for Ranglefurs), Ronald would have his mouth hanging open at some level (again, he must be trying to catch Doxy fever), and Harry would do his best to piece together the information that he had obviously never heard of.

Must be still getting used to the wizarding world…but I have to wonder, did his guardians keep him locked up in a closet for most of his life? Seems that he knew absolutely nothing at times, she thought wonderously. Granted she never regarded Harry or his friends stupid, just highly susceptive to the highest forms of infestation- the kinds that the Quibbler always warned about.

_You'd think they never read it,_ she thought, not the least bit insulted by her own criticism.

Luna sifted through the school owls and found one that for some reason would not break the gaze she returned. Her choices in life were a lot like this; decisions based on things that spoke directly to her, rather than just the prettiest thing that caught her eye.

She tied the letter to her Father onto the owl's leg with a distant look in her eyes. Didn't her friends ever see anything like that? Luna pursed her lips and thought it absurd that hardly anyone could listen to their heart anymore.

"But they must, on some level," she said aloud to the owl. It swivled its head to look her in the eyes, and if possible…quirking an eyebrow. She tried to explain; "Otherwise how would they know when to breathe, or to fall in love?"

Luna didn't expect an answer, and obviously the owl had nothing to give her as it took off into the late afternoon sky. She stared after it, mulling over Harry and Ginny, who had fallen away from each other for how their relationship was developing (and the power of another, she added grimly) and from the color on the cheeks of Ron and Hermione, Luna knew they would have a hard time admitting to each other as well.

_Gits_, she thought sadly. Luna knew it would only be until the last possible moment that they would open their eyes and their hearts to everything. Luna knew...because she experienced that same moment so many times with so many others in her family.

She leaned against the turrets of the tower and looked out over the castle and the white tomb that now held Headmaster Dumbledore. There were so many bedposts that she had gripped as a child; watching each relative of her family drop into the next life…It wasn't long before she knew so many answers at once…every moment was a portal- a possibility being opened, and everything had a meaning. No matter how fanciful it may seem.

The sun was now dipping below the horizion over the black lake, and cast an amazing streak of red and gold of color across the sky. Luna LeAnn Lovegood had never told anyone that she had not cried when her Mother had died. Just the thought of it made her eyes glaze a little bit, and she wasn't particularly phased at sitting precariously on the ledge of the tower. Quite suddenly, she remembered the feeling of holding her mother's limp wrist. It was then that Luna realized she didn't believe it as a selfish punishment or as an act that her mum had left her forever. She simply viewed it as impossible.

"I know you'll find a way; to tell me what it's like, yes?" she said soothingly, before the healers came back to claim the body to the morgue. Luna passed her thumb over her mother's hand, back and forth in a soothing circle.

"And you'll tell me, whatever you want…" her face lit up as she talked to the room in her past and the sunset in front of her. "That you miss the smell of the burning eggs Father cooked, or the way I looked at you when you told me I had gum in my hair…"

Luna thought of what she would say in return. "Cold, smooth rocks calm me, and when the wind blows through the grass, I feel friends are near….friends that I've decided I would die with more than anyone else."

"But one thing I will tell you now Mum. You'll always be my love."

She suddenly pulled herself back to the present. Luna had the perfect vantage point to view her favorite moment of the day. The sun finally sunk below the waters of the Black Lake and the green flash blurred her vision. Her smile was still in place as she thought of the meaning of the flash; it was different for a lot of people, but Luna believed a soul had transcended out of their world. As the sky gently grew darker, she wondered what her green flash would be like when she finally crossed over.

_People fear what they don't know…but I know there's nothing to be afraid of in the end._

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**A/N: Green flashes and green rays are rare optical phenomena that occur shortly after sunset or before sunrise, when a green spot is visible for a short period of time above the sun, or a green ray shoots up from the sunset point. According to legend, those who see the flash will not choose wrong love. (Description taken from Wikipedia)**


	3. Cho Chagrined

**A/N: I took it upon myself to create a side of Cho that we never see; someone worthy of the smartest house in Hogwarts. I was getting tired of seeing her in a bad light when I'm sure that anyone is possible of great things. Hope you agree.**

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Cho stared at her reflection in the loo of the Ministry. She heard her mother's voice echoing in her head as she composed herself, knowing full well that she would be walking into the lion's den of politics.

_Shoulders squared. Perk that nose up! If I see one of those eyebrows arch in defiance I will curse them red!_

Her mother's sarcasm calmed her nerves, but it was of very little help as Cho had never been so nervous in all of her life. In another act of calming herself, she reflected on how she deserved such an audience, and how what she had to say was important. No matter how young she may look in their eyes.

In the summer before her last year at Hogwarts, Cho had been awarded an honors internship within the Department of Magical Cooperation. It was not lost on her that her family had pulled some strings to get her the opportunity, and she was determined to show that she deserved to be there, despite that very fact that washed over the rumors of the staff.

To say the least, it was a terrible summer; filled with long hours within the office and the occasional excursion abroad to other ministries in neighboring countries. Cho dutifully assisted her supervisors, transcripting the reports, and researched on her own time. While her tenacity and intelligence won over the respect of her co-workers, her real drive was instating a plan for the ministry in times of emergency, and ultimately a means of rounding up Death Eaters, known and unknown.

Granted that many plans were already on the desk of the Minister since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had entered freely into the department of mysteries just before her internship. Even when she defended the second years of her house from the Death Eaters that had somehow made their way into Ravenclaw's corridor, a strange fire burned in her.

_How dare they? The both of them! Evil and good? How could they both take the worst actions known? How could one seek to destroy everything and the other stand by and do nothing?!_

The memory settled over her as she stared into the mirror, not noticing the other witches passing through the bathroom and giving her strange looks. She had never felt such a rage like that in her entire life. Cho couldn't look away from the determined face in front of her. It was what her mother was trying to convey to her all along…

"This looks good," her boss Reeves said to her, handing back her proposal. "The Auror usage seems to be the only troublesome aspect…. but it works."

Cho was taken aback, but thanked him all the same as she retrieved her papers.

Reeves gave her a strange look, but it was taken over by a mischievous smile that she liked to see. It told her that he was ready to bend a few rules; "There's a meeting with the Wizengamot today, a regional status report with the Aurors- pretty routine. I'm going to suggest that we hear a few proposals."

Cho realized that she had been holding her breath.

"Do you think you'd be ready to give a presentation by six?"

All she could manage was to gulp and nod as her stomach twisted into something closely resembling a wet towel. All of that hard work, and they were going to give her a chance? She realized that she had been granted an amazing opportunity to make a difference, to help save all that she cared for.

Cho dashed to her desk and frantically scraped together her materials, including a few auror reports that McClaggen had leaked to her. At the time, she had been disgusted with herself for flirting so shamelessly with such an oaf, but now she felt she had the upper hand against it all. Flying down the stairs, she was already half-way through her mental checklist of what she needed to go through as she flooed to her family's house and made a beeline to her wardrobe.

Her mother- stubbornly supportive as always, appeared next to her wardrobe and told her that a dark blue dress robes would soften her features while giving a subtle air of maturity.

"No jewelry!" she snapped while Cho tried to sift through her jems, then softening to a smile. "Just the family ring." Mrs. Chang then took her daughter's face in her hands and kissed her on the forehead.

"I'm so proud of you."

Cho's reflection nodded and relaxed her composure slightly. Taking up her folio and gracefully walking through the lobby towards her supervisor, they walked down to the dark lower levels of the Ministry. As Reeves pushed open the heavy oak doors, they were met by a blast of noisy chatter, stuffy robes, and more than one head of silver hair.

_I'm ready,_ she thought. And Cho Chang never lied to herself.


	4. Ginny Gauged

**A/N: Ginny is the hardest character for me to write and identify with (go figure, we only hear from her in two books), but I wanted to expose a weakness (in a supposed strong character) that didn't know she even had...enjoy.**

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Ginny jumped at the sound of ice cracking in her glass. Her mother gave her another worried look from a few seats down the table, but she made to stare at the yellow linens instead. Mrs. Weasley had noticed that within the past few hours of Harry arriving at the Burrow, that her daughter had been nervously skirting him throughout the entire reception.

Bill and Fleur had married in a flurry of flowers and sunlight that afternoon, and love was definitely in the air. Ginny shook her head clear of the events earlier that day, and blinked back tears of frustration as her hopes to dance with someone who cared about her were dashed.

The wedding party had now converged at the tables and nervous tittering conversation was taking over. She hated it. It was nothing like what she grew up with; raucous laughter at the Gryffindor house table or trying to outdo insults from her brothers.

_That stupid, insufferable…git_, she thought sourly. Yesterday she was walking down the garden path, nudging Ron with her basket full of leeks in effort to get him to look anywhere but the sky. He was staring at it a lot lately. Ginny knew what he was looking for; some indication from Harry that he was ready to leave. Hedwig, most likely.

They hadn't heard if Hogwarts would be open for the next year, but the sad, loopy writing that she received from Hermione told her of other things. She may not be a Ravenclaw, but Ginny could put the pieces together. Even if Hogwarts did open, Ron wouldn't be looking at the sky, Hermione wouldn't be so heartbroken about her summer homework, and (she would like to think) Harry wouldn't have broken up with her.

She also knew from her own intuition that Harry had refused Ron and Hermione's company outside of Hogwarts, and it angered her to no end that her brother wouldn't address the subject. Ginny knew that she had the curiosity of a cat…and that one day it would get the best of her, as it did when she finally cornered Ron to get him to fess up to what was going on. In particular, why was Harry pushing everyone away? Especially her? She couldn't conceive of a reasonable explanation.

She hadn't meant to cry in front of Ron, but the sad and understanding look that he gave her confirmed her worst fears. Ginny now looked over her shoulders at the table the trio was sitting at. Harry and Ron sat on either side of Hermione, in deep conversation. Hermione's frizzy curls had come loose and were currently whipping around her face as she shook her head vigorously. Ron's brow furrowed in concentration, then immediately leaned in close to whisper something across to Harry. The two had apprehensive looks on their faces while Harry considered for a moment, then nodded curtly…turning back to his butterbeer.

Ginny would have liked to believe that Harry gave her the briefest of glances, and that somehow…she had an affect on his decisions. But that was a fool's wish, she knew. And what was more, she knew it was probably the last time she would view her friends all together again.

Before she could let her emotions overcome her, Ginny excused herself from the table, gathered up her bridesmaids dress and made her way to the Burrow. She needed to get away, to find something familiar- something that made sense in all of this subtle chaos. The youngest Weasley retraced her steps up to the room that she shared with Hermione the last few days, and closed the door behind her with a soft click.

The room was dark but the sunset outside blazed brightly as she stood for a moment, thinking alone. Her silhouette was stark against the setting sun that was coming through her open window and she could still hear everyone outside and the garbled words that floated upwards. Ginny slowly turned to her nightstand and gingerly touched her jewelry box. It was of carved bloodwood that her father had bought from a Muggle thriftstore which had been enchanted to only open to:

"Ginevra Molly Weasley."

She withdrew an old handkerchief. Nestled inside of it was an ornate silver locket…the same that they had found at Grimmuald place.

She hadn't looked at it for quite some time, fearing the same affects as Riddle's diary in her first year. And she simply knew it was wrong to possess such a thing…but it spoke to her. A delicate and soft thought that promised adventure to her future.

What it was saying…she didn't know yet.


	5. Molly Magnified

It was the last hour of the new moon, and uncharacteristcally Molly had decided to wait until the last minute. Soon she would see the new sliver of the moon peaking over the treetops and then it would be finished at last. She felt as though a gentle weight was lifted off her shoulders as she stooped over a loose mound of dirt that stood next to the 6 other rose bushes.

Unbeknownst to the rest of the family, Mrs. Weasley had planted a rose branch each year, for each of her children. It was a protection that she had caught her mother performing, and it was only in the past years that she decided to put her efforts in motion.

Looking back to the day when her and Arthur ushered Ron onto the Hogwarts Express, she knew something had to be done. When she saw the dark hair and brilliant green eyes that could have only come from the Potter family, an odd feeling settled over her. She wondered if it had anything to do with the boy. He was polite and yet painfully shy, as if expecting retribution for anything that he said or did. No, it wasn't him…it was just the start of a new era. An unknown one at that.

When she and Arthur returned from King's Cross that day, she knew it was now or never. To be safe rather than sorry. And now, at the same time each year, a new branch was snapped from her laurel tree and planted in the soft earth. She was surprised that a beautiful rose bush appeared the next morning, flowering bright white petals for Bill. The next year was green for Charlie, and after that was a deep shade of violet for Fred. But when Molly awoke for the fourth year and saw the roses were a terrible black…she knew they held other meanings. Her fears were confirmed when she discovered from Arthur that Harry had been thrown into the Triwizard Tournament.

She did not like looking back and seeing how the petals would bleed in the afternoon sunlight. Molly had cut off all of the black roses, but they had grown back as a terrible canker to her sanity. She had then implored Arthur to keep a close eye on Harry, and thought desperately back to when (if ever) her mother had dealt with such an outcome.

In the fifth year, the roses were translucent.

Sixth year, they felt like paper and smelled like burned wood.

Molly helplessly looked out her window countless times during her housekeeping and realized that they were only replica's of flowers. Not actual living gifts of nature.

Not knowing how to approach such a premonition or who to turn to, she did the only thing she really knew how; keeping a close watch on her family. That was when the clock started following her around as if 'by a permanent sticking charm' she had overheard George murmuring one day.

It all seemed so long ago that she had planted that first branch, and now she stood back, gazing at the small twig that would bloom to be Ginny's protection. The moon had now fully risen and was like a thumbnail against the twilight sky…

The next day she awoke early, before the sun had risen. Molly sipped her tea in anticipation and tried to concentrate on her knitting, and did not look out over the back lawn until the sun had started to break over the hills and onto the Burrow.

What she saw caused her to gasp: the seven shrubs had grown into a full wall of greenery, and the roses were enormous; almost the size of dinner plates. The colour was a beautiful gold that had shades of pink and orange that matched the sunrise that started to stream through the leaves. Although there was no dew that night, fat rolling water droplets fell from the petals and created a sparkle so grand, that Molly was captivated. It was awhile that she noticed Arthur standing next to her out in the yard.

"It's good to know that we have other forces looking out for us," Arthur said vaguely as they looked out from underneath twin laurel trees. Molly allowed herself a smile as she leaned her head against his shoulder and went with her motherly instincts:

_This looks like this year is the one. And no matter what, we'll be alright._


	6. Minerva Mastered

The last of the students had left the school and Hogwarts became eerily quiet again, except for the usual screech of rusty armor or the terrible rhyming songs as Peeves floated from hall to hall. Normally at this time, Minerva would be cleaning out her wardrobe and exchanging letters with her sister in Belgium. She would dream of meeting up with her all year; weaving through the dangling hops on their walks and tasting the best casked-beer in her life while letting her hair down…something she promised herself that she would never allow herself in front of her students.

But she wasn't there, and hadn't been for three years.

The headmaster's office was empty, and in the cupboard Dumbledore's pensieve glowed to the rhythm of a calm pulse. Minerva had long since dove head-first into Dumbledore's memories, knowing that this was the beginning of an era where time was precious.

She waved her hand impatiently across the memory of Harry's name being pulled from the goblet of fire. It fluttered and rippled; disturbed at the impatience before it was finished showing the memory. She angrily pushed aside the event of Dumbledore's meeting with Tom Riddle for the first time. McGonagall passed through memories of order meetings, graduations, feasts and the occasional interrogation of Death Eaters from Voldemort's first reign of terror. Each time it gave her nothing and her frustration eventually grew by the minute.

It was a strange sensation; a sort of helpless rage that she had not experienced in a long time. The weight of losing Albus had taken its toll and a new pressure was growing…one of helplessness that had no direction towards resolution. The hours passed by while the cloud of memories around her began to lose their pressure, and Minerva knew that she had just about searched them all.

She was just about to give up hope on her pursuit when she stumbled upon a rather haunting memory that she wasn't likely to soon forget…

* * *

It was her fifth year teaching at Hogwarts, and she had escorted a grief-stricken Lily Evans to the headmaster for some assistance in the state of her student, as well as permission for her leave of absence to her mother's funeral.

"Of course, Minerva. Your student has more than enough leave in this time of grief," he stated kindly while Lily stood close to her head of house. Her eyes were puffy from crying, but she had a look of apprehension on her face.

"Your dedication doesn't go unnoticed, Miss Evans. As much as schoolwork is pressing this year, the OWL exams can certainly make an exception for the time being." At this, Lily nodded resignedly. Dumbledore gave her a sad smile as he rose and guided her to the door speaking quietly; "There will come a time for distractions, but homework and potions ingredients need not be at this time."

Lily gave a sniff and nodded, and headed down the stairwell to where Minerva and the Headmaster could hear the subdued voice of James Potter as they made their way back to Gryffindor tower.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence over tea that Albus had offered, Minerva asked; "I take it this is not the first time you've consoled a student about a death in the family?"

He was thoughtful for a moment, and Minerva almost thought to ask him again when he spoke; "Yes…and no. I've talked to many students about death and mortality, although I think they only believe me because of my age. But these last few years I've been a bit more observant with my thoughts on the afterlife. The human condition is certain, but quite recently I've found that death isn't."

"Death isn't certain?" Minerva said while looking over the rim of her teacup. She had a few of these conversations with Albus, but never as thoughtful as this one.

He looked at her for a moment, then out one of the many windows. "I didn't elaborate well, did I? I meant that death itself is inevitable, but our belief of death can be changed…I was recently reading a book from a muggle philosopher about how he was looking forward to the last moments in his life before dying. That those moments were in his power to change to his will because he had accepted death as a friend;" he held up a long finger, "but he only had one chance to get it right."

"It's always been considered a fools notion to master death. I believe that's why I've stumbled on such an affinity with Fawkes…To him, death is not something to be conquered. I'd dare say... it is something to reckon with.

"But alas, these are an old man's thoughts…meanderings," he said with a twinkle in his eye as he leaned over his tea and plucked a lemon drop from a small dish. "I hope you will promise me Minerva, when you've discovered it for yourself, you will come seek me out for discussion."

McGonagall watched as she gave Dumbledore a peculiar look, but nodded and excused herself for the evening, taking a lemon drop with her. Tears were slipping down her cheeks as she watched her old friend gaze out the office window at the thestrals that dove in and out of the forest treeline. In her mind it was a strange memory with him, but now she could see it was her friend at his utmost contentment, and nothing but.

* * *

She pulled herself away from the memory and adjusted her robes as she hit the floorboards of the office. Minerva headed briskly out and down the stairway; the dying sunlight filtering warmly through the windows and arches as she made her way down to the grounds.

It was an entirely different feeling on the grounds; something comparable to the memory in the Headmaster's office. The boardwalk made a hollow clunk; the same way it did the hundreds of times that she had walked through before. The smell of water and grass reached her nose, and she had spent so many years there she began to discern the smells with the months. She knew that at this time of day, the sun would hit the quidditch flags just right, and the birdsong would grow faint after the sunset.

"You're here, aren't you? She said quietly as she looked over the engraved name on the white tomb.

"I knew you loved Hogwarts too much to take up at the Ministry…but I never imagined that you would want to stay here forever…" Minerva looked beyond the white marble to the Black Lake and the sunset behind it. "But I know you will only stay here as long as it has an element of your school…the one you fought so hard to uphold, even after your own past."

"I came to tell you 'thank you.' You're still clever, even though you're gone," she said with a hint of a smile. "And yes…I know exactly where I want to be when I leave…let's just hope I get it right like you did."


	7. And the one who could ruin it all

…a_nd the one who could ruin it all._

Reconnaissance was greenhorn work. Why she was stuck with it was one of those aggravating mysteries of serving the Dark Lord. But maybe there was some sense to it…some element of the plan that she hadn't been keen to yet. She had learned the difference between this war and the last; he trusted no one. She kept her temper in check when he handed out tidbits of information at their councils, but they were nothing more than a bad children's story; sometimes unbelievably fanciful, far-fetched, concocted out of half-truths. Only he knew the grand scheme, and possibly Potter, but she was determined to find out.

Behind her a large hollow glass ball the size of a quaffle, pulsed and shimmered on a large table as the pictures sprung from it. Bellatrix peered persistently at all of the images, trying to find some form of link within the menial. She watched them as their projected images danced over the dark walls of her study. The only comparison was that they were half-bloods, or mudbloods altogether. Few of them were beyond the years of Hogwarts, and they bore no proud scars. They were simpleton girls, she thought easily.

Pathetic. _Girls._

But the last thought came to her with a touch of doubt. Yes, they were girls…but they were also on the brink of blossoming into powerful women. Each had a gleam in their eyes that she had seen only in her master on the rarest of occasions, and that was the true element that had unsettled her.

She had heard of McGonagall, watching her trace her finger over the white tomb of Dumbledore, even the wretched blood-traitor Weasley that she sneered at; sitting like a dumpling under a laurel tree. How picturesque, she snorted to herself.

"Enjoy your flowers while you can, Ginger," she said in a singsong voice that echoed on the stone walls. She paced back and forth while looking through the images again.

_Think! There must be someone they're connected-_

The girls she had seen in the Kronosphere were by themselves, without help from anyone else. They had something driving them. They were smart… tenacious. This wasn't going to be easy.

But then the answer solved itself. They were allies of Potter. Baby Potter, she thought while gritting her teeth. She ground them together even harder at the memory of the baby daring to use the Cruciatus curse on her within the Ministry. In a fast and unexpected movement, Bellatrix whipped out her wand and blasted a large hole into the wall of the study. As bits of plaster flew away and dust settled, a gaping, satisfying hole showed her the full moon beyond the treetops.

_How had he been able to?_ she wondered as she calmed herself. It had been wholly unexpected….she herself hadn't even succeeded using the curse until she had started to date her future husband…

"Oh yes Potter. You don't know…but I do." She purred as she watched the projection of Ginny placing a locket around her neck. Cho took up her stance on a podium and cleared her throat. Luna sighed, looking out over Hogwarts while a cloud of owls floated around her. Hermione inhaled the scent of her scroll before tying it to Hedwig's leg. Mrs. Weasley tasted the dew from her flowers and closed her eyes, smiling.

But each of them had that glint in their eyes. And no matter how she tried to ignore it, their determination had left a mark on Bellatrix's mind…and faintly -almost imperceptibly- tainted her hope in her future plans and abilities with the Dark Lord.

And maybe…that was all it took.


End file.
